


Sweetest Dreams

by timehopper



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Dubious Consent, F/F, Somnophilia, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:21:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24921478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timehopper/pseuds/timehopper
Summary: Hilda has a nice dream. She wakes up to find that Annette must be having a similar dream, and so she decides to make it a reality - without waking her.
Relationships: Annette Fantine Dominic/Hilda Valentine Goneril
Comments: 12
Kudos: 48
Collections: FE3H Kink Meme





	Sweetest Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE MIND THE TAGS. In case you missed them: this fic contains dubcon and somnophilia (sex while one partner is asleep); if you are not cool with either of those things, then this is not the fic for you and I advise you to hit that back button.
> 
> This was written for the kink meme. The prompt was for Hilda/Annette somnophilia: _They have all these great cuddlenaps, so what's a girl supposed to do if she wakes up horny with her friend right there?_
> 
> _I'm fine with any consent level, but I'd love if the awake one is careful to try and avoid waking the sleeping one._

It had been five long years of separation - of the chaos of war, of changes and uncertainty, of fear and loss and even, occasionally, triumph. So much is different now, and yet through it all, somehow this remains unchanged.

Annette invites Hilda to her room with a smile and the promise of a quick cup of tea, a shared slice of cake, and a teensy-tiny little nap. The tea and cake are fine, of course, but the real treat is when they slip under the covers together, sunlight slipping through the gap in the curtains to illuminate Annette’s smile. 

It's easy to fall asleep like this. Annette is so warm, so soft, so sweet. She smells like sugar, like sweetbread just out of the oven; the scent clings to her, lingers in her hair, and even as she starts to relax, Hilda tucks herself in closer to inhale it deeply. She allows her eyes to slip shut, and she presses in close to Annette, chest to back as she gathers the smaller woman up in her arms.

Hilda falls asleep to the sound of Annette's even breathing.

* * *

She dreams. Dreams of Annette whispering her name, moaning as hands run down her arms and cup her adorably petite breasts.

Hilda lowers her mouth to them, kissing her from sternum to swell and closing her lips around a pert nipple. She sucks on it gently at first, growing more insistent only when Annette begins to beg her for _more, more, more, Hilda, please..._

She pulls away with a flick of the tongue, smiling up at Annette while she continues playing with her breasts. _Anything for you,_ she croons. Hilda slides up her body to kiss her, and she tastes...

Tastes...

"Hilda... Mm..."

It’s dark when Hilda opens her eyes. She realizes, slowly, that she's pressed her lips to Annette's neck. That must have been what she had tasted in her sleep. And it’s _good_ , she thinks, humming quietly to herself as she opens her mouth and slides her tongue up, up. Annette squirms against her, presses back, and - oh. Only then does Hilda realize that she's been grinding against Annette this whole time.

She slows the steady movement of her hips and loosens her hold on Annette. Or tries to, anyway - Annette's got her hands firmly around Hilda's forearms, and her grip only tightens when Hilda shifts, as if trying to keep her there. Had she woken up?

Hilda tenses, lips still pressed to Annette's neck. She waits, quiet and still, until she hears Annette's breathing even out again, and then lets out a deep exhale of her own. Everything's fine. Annette's still asleep, Hilda hadn't woken her, and...

"Ah... H-Hilda, please..."

She tenses again. Did she just...?

"More..."

Hilda blinks. There's no way. No fucking _way_ . Is Annette _actually_ dreaming about her? Is she shifting and squirming and grinding against Hilda now all because of whatever delightfully lewd dream she must be having?

Hilda can't stop the disbelieving laugh that escapes past her lips, but as soon as it's out, she snaps her mouth shut and waits to make sure she hasn’t just woken Annette. A few moments pass filled with nothing but Annette's gentle snores and little jerky movements, and Hilda realizes that she's still safe.

But _fuck_ , is she horny.

Hilda likes to think of herself as prim and proper. _Ladylike,_ if a little lazy. She is the type to ask for what she wants with a coy smile and a flowery compliment, not just take whatever she wants whenever she wants it. And yet, with Annette right here, smelling so good and moaning her name and grinding against her _just right_ , Hilda can't help herself. She traces a hand down her companion's front, over the hard ridges of her dress's buttons and along its soft fabric, all the way until she reaches the divot in it where Annette's legs are crossed, one over the other.

Goddess, she's warm. Even through her dress, Hilda can feel it. _She must be wet, too_ , she thinks, licking her suddenly dry lips and tasting Annette on the tip of her tongue. It's too much to resist: Hilda slips a hand under the slit in Annette's dress and slowly, carefully, hikes it up to her waist. Her hands move along the pale nylon tights covering Annette's legs, and Hilda shivers. It feels so good, even through her gloves; if only she'd thought to remove them...

Well, there's no time like the present. Hilda withdraws her hand and plucks her glove off with her teeth, one finger at a time. She sets it aside behind her and gently draws back the bedsheets, moving slowly so as not to wake Annette. Then, carefully, slides her bare hand between her legs.

And oh, she _is_ wet. Damp even through her tights. 

Hilda bites her lip to silence the noise that rises from her throat - a throaty whine, a longing moan - and squeezes her legs together. The flex of her muscles feels good in the moment, but it hardly relieves any pressure at all. She needs _more_.

Carefully, carefully, she shifts behind Annette, maneuvering so she can comfortably hook a leg around Annette's thigh. Hilda presses forward, sighing as she slides Annette's leg between her own and grinds against it. There's a little bit of resistance in how wet her panties are, but being able to press herself this close and relieve even a tiny amount of pressure feels like heaven. She moans, quietly as she can, and kisses the gentle slope of muscle between Annette's neck and shoulder.

"Annette," she whispers, lips grazing the fabric of Annette's dress. "Sweet, darling Annette, you feel so good..."

She's quiet enough that Annette won't wake, but all the same Hilda stills, waiting for the telltale quiet breathing to signal she can continue. It comes, coupled with a moan, and Hilda smiles. Perfect.

She slips her hand between Annette's legs, tracing the outline of her pussy with one finger. Hilda shivers; it feels even better now that she can actually get a sense for just how wet Annette is. And - goddess, she must be _soaked_ if she's this damp through two layers of clothing. Annette twitches, jerking under Hilda's touch, and sighs. "Mm... m-more..."

"Of course, my sweet." Hilda trails her hand upward, stopping to drag a fingertip along the waistband of Annette's tights before gently, delicately, pulling them down. She uses both hands, just to be sure she's as steady as possible, and once they're down far enough, Hilda leans up far enough she can see.

And oh, Annette is beautiful. Her skin is flawless: soft and silky, unblemished but for a tiny mole on the inside of her thigh. Hilda traces over it with a finger and delights in the little shiver the motion draws from the sleeping Annette. She wants so badly to kiss that little mole, to lave her tongue over it and along her thighs, to bite down on them and suck dark, uneven bruises into that perfect skin. To make Annette hers.

But perhaps another time. Right now, she wants Annette to sleep - to finally allow herself some rest after the hard battles and grueling marches they fight, day after day. She deserves it, after all. 

She deserves the world.

"Ah... H-Hilda..."

Annette's muted moan snaps Hilda back to herself, and she moves her hand up to slide along the slick fabric of her panties. She repeats the motion over and over again, each stroke drawing another sleepy whimper as she applies more pressure. The noises encourage Hilda, push her to start rocking her hips and grinding against Annette's leg more firmly. It feels so good, pleasuring herself like this - and all the better for pleasuring Annette, too, whose moans have steadily gotten louder, but no more articulate.

She slides a finger beneath Annette's panties. One to start, then another, slipping it between her folds and smearing her slick back and forth with every stroke. The glide of her fingers is easy, delightful; when she finally decides to slip one in past Annette’s entrance, it goes in easily, almost like Annette’s hole was made for her.

Hilda chokes back a noise as she slides a second finger in without resistance. She’s too impatient to bother working her way up to it, but luckily, Annette is more than accommodating. "Always so good for me," Hilda breathes. "Even when you're asleep."

She rubs herself against Annette's leg, rocking her hips steadily as she tries to find a good, gentle rhythm. Annette whimpers and rocks back against Hilda, apparently seeking more contact, more friction, more pleasure in her sleep. And Hilda, of course, is only too happy to oblige: she pushes her fingers in deeper, curling them against Annette's inner walls and stroking her from the inside. The motion pulls a throaty, sleep-thick moan from Annette's throat, and Hilda smiles. But it's not enough - nothing will ever be enough for her Annette, and so Hilda adjusts her wrist so she can comfortably slide her thumb between Annette's labia and rub small circles over her clit.

She can't see it from where she is, but goddess, Hilda can feel it: Annette's clit is so small, so delicate - just like the rest of her - and she can tell it's sensitive, too, from the way Annette very nearly sobs in her sleep as Hilda rubs it. It’s perfect - she’s perfect - and the sound alone is almost enough to make Hilda come. 

She rubs at it harder, though, hard enough to draw more of those delightful, delectable noises from Annette, but still gentle enough to wake her (although the temptation is certainly there). She moves her fingers in and out of Annette in time with the rocking of her own hips, and soon she feels Annette tighten around her, legs clamping down on Hilda's hands as her pussy grows impossibly tight.

It's like the snap of a taut rope when Annette comes. She lets out a long, sharp breath, the only sound she makes as her entire body tenses and relaxes, muscles undulating over and over again in a rippling wave of pleasure. Hilda can feel it in every inch of her body that's pressed against Annette's, and it wrenches an orgasm out of her, too, the accidental movement of Annette's legs giving her just what she needs to get thrown right over the edge.

She forces herself not to make any noise through it despite how it crashes through her, and she very nearly fails when she hears Annette murmur a soft "Hilda..."; but she manages, somehow, nearly splitting her bottom lip in the process.

Once her orgasm runs its course, every inch of Hilda’s body goes limp. Post-coital haze settles over her like the blanket she had discarded earlier, and she very nearly falls asleep again in the aftermath. She's brought back to the present by another quiet whine, though; and distantly, Hilda realizes she's still fingering Annette.

Part of her really wants to keep going, to draw another orgasm out of her sleeping companion, but Hilda knows when not to press her luck. With a reluctant sigh, she pulls her fingers out and wipes them on the sheets behind her, not caring that she'll have to launder them later. That particular chore is more than worth it, she decides, when she feels Annette settle against her once more.

Hilda wraps an arm around her and closes her eyes. She can explain all this later, when they both wake up; for now, all she cares to think about is how good she feels and how happy Annette looks, even as she slumbers on.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this and think you might like to see more, have a chat, or would like to get to know me, please check out my twitter [@tim3hopp3r](https://twitter.com/tim3hopp3r).
> 
> And if you would like to find out how to support me, I have a handy list of links right [here](https://twitter.com/tim3hopp3r/status/1355219789560471554). Please check it out! I wouldn't be able to do this without people like you supporting me. ♥
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!


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